


I'll Do Better (If You'll Let Me)

by Pearl_Unplanned



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hinted Clint/Natasha - Freeform, Hurt Tony Stark, I just don't want to spoil the whole story, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, Time Travel, Tony Feels, Tony POV, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Tony/Female is NOT an OC, implied future Tony/Bruce and Steve/Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl_Unplanned/pseuds/Pearl_Unplanned
Summary: Tony Stark is stuck in the past, year 1917. His team hasn't come to find him for the past five days, and he's starting to feel like they've forgotten about him.So he gets drunk at a bar, and meets this sad woman who takes him home. Surely sleeping with someone in the past won't change anything important in the future...





	1. I Just Want To Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> Tony and this currently unidentified female character have sex when both are drunk. It's consensual. _The character will eventually be revealed._ That's why I put "Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings"—off-screen drunk sex. Also, Tony swears a lot. Just warning.
> 
> The Tony/Bruce, Steve/Bucky and Clint/Natasha are all very minor to the story, and no one actually kisses 'on screen', there's only really Tony's internal dialogue of 'why won't they just kiss already' and such. There's a lot of hand holding. :)

 

            It had been five days since Tony Stark had gotten trapped in the past.

            The first thing that he had done, after discovering that the money he’d had on him had converted to the money of the time, was go get drunk. Well, technically the first thing he did was fine out what year it was, then wait for his team to come get him… then get drunk that night, seeing as his team _didn’t_ come for him.

            “Another round, Anthony?” the bartender asked, placing another glass of whiskey in front of him. In the past five days, Tony had really gotten to know this bartender. He’d even started helping out as a ‘part-time job’ during the daytime so that he’d be able to get drunk in the evening. It seemed to be working pretty well, seeing as he _was_ a hard worker and never half-assed anything.

            “Thanks, Frank,” Tony mumbled, throwing back another glass. Did he miss his team? Not if they didn’t miss him enough to come get him. (He was good at lying to himself.) It wasn’t like it was _his_ fault that he was stuck in the past! It was all stupid Hydra’s fault—he was pretty sure that they were targeting Mr. All-American, but he couldn’t just _let_ them send him through time!

            Perhaps he _should_ have let them send Cap back. At least then _he_ would’ve been the one going to get him back. But he couldn’t help it—he saw Steve in danger, and despite how much the two fought sometimes, he just couldn’t _not_ protect him.

            It drove him crazy, his need to keep Rogers safe. Every time he got himself into danger, Tony couldn’t help but come running to go save his sorry ass and keep him safe. Thankfully, Rogers tried to do the same for him, and often succeeded, but… this wasn’t something that he’d be able to fix.

            Brucie-bear, his dear science bro, might be able to reverse engineer the time machine to figure out how to get him back. Thor’s girl, Dr. Foster, probably would be helpful if they could contact her…

            Tony sighed. He knew that he needed to give them some time to figure it out, but no matter how much time it took them, as long as they figured out how to get him back, time was irrelevant here. It may take them a month, but as long as they pulled him out of the timeline, they could pull him out of _anywhere_.

            If they’d figured it out, chances are they would’ve already gotten him home.

            Being stuck there at Frank O’Malley’s bar, drinking himself to sleep every night, meant that they’d probably never figure out how to get him home.

            How depressing.

            Glancing over to the other side of the bar, Tony squinted at the blonde who’d been matching him drink for drink for the past two nights. She looked familiar, though he couldn’t exactly tell _why_. Last night she’d just been crying all night. This night, though, she was drinking and flirting and drinking some more.

            If his team hadn’t come for him before, what were the chances that they’d show up right now? Taking his drink with him, he wandered over to the young woman. Wow, okay, so closer up she looked a lot younger than he’d thought. Shit, if she was here she must’ve been of age though.

            “What’s a pretty lady like you doin’ in a place like this?” Tony asked smoothly.

            Her blue eyes were full of tears that she seemed to want to hold back as she flashed a smile at him. Taking another long drink of whiskey, he braced himself for whatever baggage she might have—she looked like she was getting over someone, he could definitely help with that. He’d made her forget all other men, at least for the night.

            “Same as you—getting drunk, making mistakes,” the woman said, smiling.

            “I can make that happen,” Tony said, ordering another couple of drinks.

 

            Peeling his eyes open, Tony groaned at the pounding in his head. How many drinks had he had last night? And better yet… where the hell was he? He could see light coming in from a window, and outside that window… oh yeah, 1917. New York. Waiting for his team to bring him back.

            The pretty blonde from the bar. Slowly turning around, Tony saw that she was still sleeping. She looked peaceful enough as Tony slid out of bed and slowly got his clothes back on. Yep, apparently his team hadn’t shown up during the night. Great. Day six of living in 1917. What was worse was that Tony _knew_ that prohibition was right around the corner, so what was he supposed to do once he wasn’t allowed to get drunk during the nights and crash at Frank’s?

            Before he was able to get his shoes on, the woman woke up, groaning as she rolled over. It took a few moments of them staring at one another for her to realize what had just happened.

            “Lord no,” she moaned, and then came the tears. “Please tell me we didn’t… Oh lord.”

            “We, uh, we did,” Tony said. At least, he was pretty sure he remembered it… they’d both been pretty wasted. He could remember bits and flashes—all the good stuff, her soft moans, telling him _deeper, faster, harder_ —so it was pretty clear to him that they’d both had quite a good time.

            “I’m married,” she said quietly, which made Tony flinch a little. Great, her husband was going to come kick his ass now? “He… I just learned that he… He was a soldier. He was a good man…” Was. Always the magic word. “He just… he was supposed to come _home_ soon! We were going to have a family…”

            “I’m sorry,” Tony murmured. She was twenty, just starting out her adult life. (16 years wasn’t _that_ much of an age difference… his parents had a larger difference that _that_. Sleeping with her definitely wasn’t creepy.) In this time period, getting married young was normal. But losing your husband so early? “I know it isn’t something you’re going to want to hear, because losing people really sucks, but life _does_ move on. There will be other people that will occupy your time.”

            Her sharp blue eyes glared at him, and Tony _swore_ that he’d seen that look before. Kinda made him think of Natasha, though he couldn’t try to picture himself _sleeping with Natasha_ because Barton would _kill_ him. And anyway, Clint was his friend, and he wouldn’t do that to him.

            “Get out,” the woman said, making sure that the covers were pressed to her chest as she sat up. “Just… get out. This was a mistake.”

            “That’s what you were looking for last night,” Tony muttered bitterly. Of course he was a mistake, he was _always_ a mistake. Every lover he’d ever had said that eventually. He was even too much of a mistake for Pepper, because while they were great as friends, sleeping with him was still a mistake.

            Regardless, he pulled his shoes on and headed for the door. Casting one last glance over at her, Tony sighed. This was _not_ how he thought that his morning would go.

            Closing the door behind himself, Tony dragged his feet down the street as he headed back towards Frank’s bar. Maybe he’d start looking for another job than cleaning the bar, taking the trash out and dragging drunk people out when they’d had too much or became violent. Frank had seen the skills he’d picked up from his lessons with Cap and had instantly offered him the job, back on day two.

            What if his team didn’t want him back, though? What if they decided that it wasn’t worth the time to get him back? After all, if he died, _everything_ was left to the team. Well, except the business, which he left in Pepper’s control—he made sure that nothing would happen to her if something happened to him.

            He wouldn’t be surprised. He always caused a bunch of trouble, he wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t want him back. S.H.I.E.L.D. could make new weapons for the team—sure, they weren’t as good as the ones that _he_ made, but… they could still do it. They wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.

            Tony sighed, wandering back into the bar before taking a seat.

            “Wondered where you’d been,” Frank said, placing a cup of water down in front of Tony. “Quite a dame you had last night. She still around?”

            “Nah, she wasn’t too happy to be waking up next to this ugly mug,” Tony muttered, thankful for the water. “I’ll start cleanin’ the place up.”

            “Take yer time, ya look like you’ve had quite a mornin’,” Frank said, wandering over to another customer. “Oh, and Anthony? Go wash up when yer done. You look like hell.”

 

            Tony had been staring at the phone number for a while now. Walter Stark, father of Howard Stark. Would it change all of history if he decided to call him up, talk with him some? It wasn’t like he’d ever used his real name so far.

            When Frank had asked him who he was, he’d responded with _Anthony Banner_ , hoping that Bruce wouldn’t care that he’d borrowed his science bro’s last name. (He wouldn’t mind, would he?) So it wasn’t like they’d ever know who he really was.

            “If you want to call, I’ve got a phone in the back,” Frank offered, and Tony quickly pocketed the number again.

            “Thanks, but I’m still…not sure if he’d want to hear from me,” Tony said, gathering some glasses up from one of the tables before taking them over to the sink.

            Day ten.

            No team.

            Chances are, they didn’t really want him back. Might as well start to actually _do_ something. He’d already fixed all the machines he could for Frank, and he’d even gotten recommended to a couple other people. He was starting to get some money stacked up that he didn’t spend all night getting drunk. In fact, Frank had been charging him less and less for what he drank (which may have also been because he was drinking less as time went on).

            “You might want to start looking for a real place to be stayin’ at,” Frank said as Tony washed the dishes. “I’m not kickin’ you out, mind you, but dependin’ on how long ya think yer stayin’ here, ya might want to check around some.”

            “I’m still hoping… but you might be right,” Tony sighed, putting the glasses up on the drying rack. He stared into the water, cleaning off another glass. This wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to build new technology, work in the lab, discover new elements… Being stuck in the past was like a nightmare. Nothing that he _wanted_ to work with existed yet.

            He couldn’t patch up any of his suits, he couldn’t make any new bots… he couldn’t even fix Barnes’ damn _arm_ , and he would _love_ to do that right now, even though he and Barnes didn’t quite get along yet! (He was trying, for Cap, but… he and Barnes just didn’t get along well. Yet.)

            “Well, keep saving up just in case,” Frank said, patting his shoulder. Tony smiled at the older man. While his father hadn’t exactly been the best father, Tony knew what a good father was supposed to act like. He knew what a good role model was supposed to be. Frank was a good man—he put jerks in their place when they needed a bit of an ass-whooping, he made sure people didn’t pass out at his bar, he gave practical and smart advice to people who needed it. He was inspiring.

            Most of all, he believed in Tony.

            _I just want to go home._ Tony couldn’t tell him that, though. Frank didn’t know he was from the future. But he couldn’t even go make friends with kid-Cap right now, because even his oldest teammate hadn’t been born yet. (Maybe Barnes had, but he wasn’t going to be a babysitter. He was an _inventor_ , dammit!)

 

            “I’m looking for a man who was at your bar a couple weeks ago.” Tony was barely paying attention to people’s conversations, trying to keep his mind occupied as he cleaned plates and glasses. Again.

            His team really had forgotten about him.

            Day thirty-fucking-four.

            Walter Stark’s phone number was still burning a hole in his pocket.

            His team still hadn’t shown up.

            The glasses were dirty again, like every day, and _damn it_ he was done with this.

            He needed _real_ technology to fix, to tinker with. He hadn’t been able to do much of _anything_ in the past month, other than search around for an apartment. If he was going to be stuck in the past, he might as well make a life for himself. Maybe he’d start his own business, build things that shouldn’t exist yet, and _really_ fuck with time. After all, no one gave a fuck about him, why should he care what he fucked up?

            “Anthony?” Tony turned when he heard his name, putting the plates down.

            The pretty blonde from… well, about a month ago, actually. She looked a lot better than she had that night—her hair was curled, she was wearing a little bit of makeup. She looked… nice. Well, except for that frown, and the fear in her eyes. She was wearing a nurse uniform—good, she had a nice, steady job. Maybe she could meet a doctor and have a life again.

            “Anthony, I presume?” she asked, walking over.

            “Yeah,” he replied, unsure if he should correct to ‘Tony’ or not. “Ms.…?”

            “Ms. O’Connor,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips. “I need to talk with you.”

            Oh man, she looked serious. He looked over to Frank, who nodded and gestured to the back room. Good, a place they could talk privately. Leading her over there, he made sure to close the door. There were some real nosy punks in the bar sometimes who didn’t know how to mind their damn business.

            He turned to face her. “What is—?”

            “I’m pregnant,” she said.

            Fuck.


	2. Just Be There (It'll Get Better)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes to terms with the fact that he's going to be a father, and that he's been forgotten by his team. And then things change, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still debating on whether or not to keep the end posted as two chapters, or combined into one, 5400 word chapter. Anyone?

 

            “Are you sure you want me to move in with you?” Tony asked, looking around the apartment nervously. What if there was someone waiting, ready to beat him up for getting her pregnant? What if her husband wasn’t really dead? No, there was no way she could’ve made up that emotion from before.

            “If you’re going to be the father to this baby, then you’re… going to be staying here. You don’t have anywhere else to stay, I already talked with Frank about _that_ ,” O’Connor said with a sigh. She looked like she didn’t really _want_ him to be anywhere around her, but she was kind enough to take him in.

            “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, hoping that she wasn’t worried about him trying to make another move on her. He’d been expecting a one night stand. He _really_ shouldn’t have had sex with someone from the past. Who knew what this one extra person could do to the timeline?

            “Oh believe me, I’m not worried about that. I’m not as delicate as I look,” she said, showing him to his room. It was small, but he really just needed somewhere to sleep. Frank’s couch was getting to be a bit painful after a month. Having a bed again would do wonders for his back.

            “I’ve, uh, I’ve got some money,” he said, unsure of how he was supposed to say ‘I’m still hoping my friends from the future will bring me back there, so… I’m not going to be around for much longer’ without sounding crazy.

            “You better. And you better find a job, too, because you’re going to be a father,” she said, walking down the hallway. Tony listened to the clicking of her shoes as she left, and it finally started sinking in.

            She was right. He was going to be a _father_.

            Holy fuck. He wasn’t ready to have a _kid!_ He was thirty-six years old—most people who wanted families would have kids sooner, probably—but he wasn’t _ready_. Fuck.

            His knees gave out, and Tony flopped down onto the bed.

            He was going to be a father.

 

            “New guy’s not doin’ nearly as good a job as you did,” Frank chuckled as he poured Tony another whiskey. The brunet couldn’t help the little smile that graced his lips as he glanced over at the ‘new guy’ who didn’t look all too happy about the job he got.

            “Well, I had to find somethin’ full-time,” Tony said, sighing. “I’m real thankful for all your help, though, Frank—I hope you know that. You took me in, gave me a job, gave me a place to stay… gave me a _chance_. And I’ll never be able to repay you for all that.”

            “You gotta be kind ta everyone,” Frank said, passing over the drink. “That’s how I live. Kid over there needed a job—wants ta go off to some fancy school and get him an education. Got him working nights cleanin’ after school’s out. Because he doesn’t buy a single drink, all that money goes to that school of his. Proba’ly a good thing, too, ‘cause he’d make a lot less if every cent went to booze.”

            Tony laughed, lifting his own drink in a toast. “Well, some things never change. This is one thing I’ll never be able to give up, that’s for sure. Every other cent is going straight to O’Connor, though. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

            “I still can’t believe you’re staying with her. She barely knows you, and yet yer stayin’ with that dame,” Frank chuckled. “You do good by her, ya hear?”

            “I’ll try… I’m just, um, I’m not sure how much longer… Something might happen to me soon, and… if something happens…” Tony sighed, taking a long drink. “I’m not a crazy man, but I… chances are, I’m not going to be around much longer.”

            “Yer not thinkin’ of skippin’ out on her, are ya?” Frank asked sharply. He looked just like what Tony always thought a father should look like.

            He smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t do that…”

            “If yer sick, Anthony… you might jus’ want ta tell her,” Frank said quietly. After all, if he wasn’t leaving but he might be gone soon, the only logical reason would be because he’s sick.

            Tony sighed, taking another long drink of whiskey. Maybe it would be best if people thought that he was sick.

            “I’m gonna make sure that kid’s taken care of,” Tony mumbled, downing the entire glass before he pulled the phone number out of his pocket. Walter Stark. “Can I still use that phone?”

 

            “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Sarah said, handing Tony his plate. He’d gotten used to the home-cooked meals that the thought of take-out from back home made him sick.

            O’Connor was such a great roommate. She was a fantastic cook, she was very intelligent and independent and sassy. On her days off she made clothes—she _made_ them, herself! She was even teaching him to cook for the times when she had long, double shifts.

            He tried to be a good roommate too, keeping the apartment clean while she was off on long shifts, cooking small meals for her when he could. He knew that the ‘stories’ he told her really did amaze her, and sometimes they spent hours just listening to one another make up stories. He had a crazier ‘imagination’ than she did, because he had the advantage of the future.

            Never once had he kissed her. Never once had he flirted with her. Never once had he even tried to suggest that they might get together.

            That woman was so faithful to her deceased husband. After all, it had only been three months since she’d lost him. He helped her through that when she was sad and scared for the future. She never did change her last name, nor tell her what her husband’s name was. To him, she was just O’Connor, the lady he’d accidently gotten pregnant.

            They barely even spoke of the baby. It was difficult, not speaking about the baby. Tony was tempted to ask, but…

            One of these days, she was going to have to stop working. What she didn’t know was the amount of money that he’d been making, the amount of money that he’d been stashing away for her.

            He still visited Frank once a week for a drink, but he honestly didn’t have time for drinking. He’d spoken with Walter, he’d talked himself into a job. He worked part-time with the businessman, part-time at a mechanic’s shop.

            “There is,” Tony admitted, placing both plates down at the table. “But I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

            “How about you tell me?” Sarah asked, holding up a bottle of wine.

            “That’s not good for you,” Tony said, swiping it out of her hands before putting it back into the cabinet. People wouldn’t figure that out for decades yet. “Trust me on this. Not while you’re pregnant.”

            Sarah rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how you seem to know all these things,” she said, grabbing two glasses of water before she took a seat at the tiny table. “Because I sure don’t know where you hear all that. Never been anything wrong with it before.” She focused on him, raising an eyebrow. “So, are you gonna tell me what you’re hiding?”

            Everything. He couldn’t say that.

            Tony took a seat. “I’m not from around here.”

            “I got that part,” Sarah chuckled, cutting into her dinner. “Where are you from?”

            “You know all those stories I’ve been telling you?” Tony asked, savoring the meal that he was eating. If his team did find him—hah, it’s been ninety-six days, that’s not happening—he would miss her cooking.

            “Of course. You’re a genius with a crazy imagination,” Sarah said, rubbing her stomach. She was just starting to show. “I hope this little one has such an imagination…”

            “It’s not my imagination…” Tony said quietly. “I’m… not from around here, Sarah. When I say that, I really do mean it. There’s a reason why I know more than I should. There’s a reason why I just showed up here out of nowhere.” Sarah was staring at him skeptically, frowning slightly. “I’m not crazy. I’m from the future.”

            There was a few second of silence before Sarah started laughing, tears in her eyes. It went on for a while until she noticed the serious look on Tony’s face. Forcing the laughs to giggles, Sarah said, “Really now? The future? So what’s the future going to be like, Tony? What’s going to happen?”

            “There’s going to be another war,” Tony said, crossing his arms. “This one’s going to end in 1918. Next one’s gonna start in 1939. Just wait and see. And prohibition’s going to pass, so Frank’s probably going to lose his bar—that man should be doing something more productive though. He wants to be a police officer, I should tell him to go do that. Regardless, I’m from the future, whether or not you want to believe me.”

            Sarah frowned, pushing out her chair so she could stand up. “Tony, quit messing around. You’re going to be a father, you can’t pretend that you’re crazy.”

            “I’m not crazy,” Tony said. He hated arguing with O’Connor—there was no way to say for sure that he _was_ from the future. “I promise, I’m not! I just… I’m worried that I’m going to be sent back to the future sometime, and… I don’t want to leave you alone, Sarah, I don’t. I want to be here, I want to help you raise the baby, but there’s a chance… there’s a chance that I may disappear one day and never show up again.”

            “Don’t talk like that.” The nurse crossed her arms angrily. “You’re going to be here, Anthony. I’ve known you for two months now, and you’re one of the best men I’ve known. I know that I haven’t always been the easiest to live with—and believe me, you haven’t been the easiest either—but I can say from experience that you’ve always been a good man to me. There aren’t that many good men in this world, but you’re one of them. And this baby… if we have a son, we’ll raise him to be a good man, too.”

            Knowing that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to raise his child stung. Almost a hundred days, chances were that he’d been forgotten, but… it was still nagging at him that he might have to go back. He missed his family every moment—after the three years they’d spent together, he’d really considered his team his family—but he couldn’t abandon his child.

            Howard hadn’t been a good father, but he was going to be a good father to this kid. There was no way that he’d be the same sort of father that his own father was.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, because what else could he say? Sarah was probably realizing now what a mistake sleeping with him was. After all, nothing he could say to her would prove that he was from the future.

            “Don’t be sorry,” O’Connor whispered. “Just _be_ there.”

 

            “You’re definitely having a son,” Walter said, that signature Stark Smirk on his face that Tony was so used to seeing. Huh, looks like he got it from his grandfather. The powerful businessman patted Tony’s shoulder like _he_ was from the future and knew exactly what would happen.

            “Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, gently rocking the tiny baby. August 15, 1917. At first he’d been worried to have to face his father, but seeing this little five-month-old baby… He couldn’t help but smile and rock him gently, like he hadn’t been the man that had caused him so much pain later in life.

            He actually got along _really_ well with Walter. So well that the man had named his son Howard Anthony Walter Stark. He’d gone as far as to _add_ ‘Anthony’ in, seeing as he didn’t want any more children. Tony was amazed.

            _Shit_. The issue was that he _knew_ it was his father’s name, and that’s where he’d gotten _Anthony_ from. He was always supposed to get his name from his father’s middle name. He was always supposed to go into the past. Oh man, that was some sort of wacky time paradox. He was always supposed to meet his grandfather, who would in turn cause his name to happen… Fuck, that was confusing.

            But the real problem was that he was always supposed to go to the past. He was _supposed_ to be here. Maybe… O’Connor’s kid was always supposed to be born.

            “I can tell,” Walter bragged, beaming at the little boy in Tony’s arms. “I’m real glad to have met you, Anthony. Never found such a smart, hard-working man… other than myself, of course!” He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. “You feel like family, Banner.”

            “You feel like family too,” he said, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. He’d never met his grandfather before. Due to how old his father had been when he was born—whoops, wasn’t expecting a kid, now, were you?—he’d never actually had a chance to meet the man. Howard had been old enough to be his grandfather when he’d been born, that was why Jarvis had basically raised him—because Howard hadn’t _wanted_ a kid. Walter, though… would’ve been a good grandfather if he’d been born earlier.

            It was nice to have a chance to meet the guy.

 

            “I’ve been thinking about names a lot,” Sarah said. She was six months pregnant and not allowed to work anymore due to some complications, so she spent her time making clothes and other things for the baby.

            “What were you thinking?” Tony asked. Cleaning the apartment wasn’t that easy for O’Connor anymore, so Tony had taken to doing that all himself. He was completely fine with it, though. It was actually a great stress-reliever.

            “My… my husband really liked the name Steven,” Sarah said quietly. The baby had been kicking a lot lately, which made Walter even more convinced that it was a little boy. “I’ve always loved the name Charlotte, Margaret, and Virginia.”

            “You seem to think it’s going to be a girl,” Tony chuckled, glancing over at his roommate. He smiled sadly. “I knew a Steven once. It’s a great name, strong. If it’s a boy… and if it’s a girl, Virginia, Margaret, Charlotte… any of those. They’re all wonderful names.” And great, now there were tears in his eyes because _Steve and Pepper and Aunt Peggy_ and _fuck_ he missed his little Avengers family.

            He stopped counting a long time ago.

            Just over six months now.

            Half a year.

            They must’ve forgotten him by now.

            “Great,” Sarah said, though she looked like she just wanted to change the subject. “Tell me about that new invention you were working on with Walter—I never did get to hear what you wanted it to _do_.”

            Tony smiled a little. He could get used to life here, though. Half a year was a long time to get used to something.

            “Well,” he said, grinning upon recalling Walter’s amazed face when he’d first proposed the idea. “The _plan_ was for it to…”

 

            The baby was due in just over two months, but Sarah had been having some complications. Tony figured that the baby might end up born early. All he could think about was that beautiful little baby that he’d be able to hold in his arms… maybe he could bring Sarah and the baby back to the future with him, if his family… if his friends… if his _teammates_ ever showed up.

            If only if only.

            He and Walter were testing the new engine. To be able to work on something like this, after being stuck with nearly _no_ technology, was incredible. Walter loved his ideas.

            Prohibition was officially starting. The states were ratifying it, so Tony did his best to encourage Frank to join the police department. So far, Frank was sure that the states would disagree. Tony knew they wouldn’t.

            “Ready to test it?” Walter called, and Tony gave him a thumbs up sign, pulling down his goggles.

            Let’s see if he could advance some technology.

            Just as Walter flipped the switch, Tony knew that there was something wrong. There was too much energy—this wasn’t from the engine that they’d been building, this was far beyond anything that should ever be possible at the time. This wasn’t something that either of them could’ve created.

            This was beyond their capabilities with the limitations that they faced right now.

            Panic started to set in. this wasn’t something he was doing.

            This was something else.

            It seemed to pulse out, destroying the engine in a bright flash before pulling Tony forward into the never-ending whiteness, spinning and swirling and _this wasn’t supposed to happen_.

 

            The moment that Tony opened his eyes, he felt the panic set in. this wasn’t Walter’s experimentation room. The technology that was surrounding him was far too advanced for it to be anyplace that Walter owned. No, especially not with those all-too-familiar robots sitting off to the side, waiting for permission to come over.

            “Tony!” The only one who called him ‘Tony’ was Sarah, but that definitely wasn’t O’Connor’s voice.

            Before he could move, Tony found himself attack-hugged by a very familiar dark, curly-haired man whose dark eyes were full of tears. Tony carefully wrapped his arms around the other man, still in shock. This wasn’t 1918. This… this was…

            “We thought we’d lost you,” someone else cried, hugging him, before suddenly there were a lot of people surrounding him, hugging him tightly and trying to touch him—to know he’s _real_ —while they all repeated his name and cried and apologized at how long it took for them to get that time machine up and running, a whole month, it was just _so long_ —

            “Tony?” Natasha asked quietly, shooing everyone else away until it was just the two of them, her standing in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

            “I need you to send me back,” Tony whispered, hands trembling.

            Sarah was alone in the apartment. No, that other neighbor, she was there… with her little boy, too… He needed to be there for O’Connor. He needed to be there for his _child_.

            “What? But we just got you _back,_ Tony. I know it took a month, but...” Bruce said. He sounded terrified, and his eyes were so full of sorrow that it confused Tony. “Why do you want to leave?”

            “I… I was there for six… six and a half months,” Tony said, trying to take deep breaths. “Six, not one. I… it was supposed to be a one night stand. But… but she got pregnant.”

            His team seemed to realize what he was saying.

            “Tony… the machine got destroyed when we brought you back,” Steve said quietly, gesturing towards the pieces or destroyed rubble. “That’s why it took a month to rebuild it in the first place—when it sent you through time, it was random. It didn’t break… _that_ much. But getting one specific person from as soon as we could get him… it destroyed the machine.”

            Rogers barely managed to catch him when his knees collapsed. The super-soldier held him as he sobbed against that serum-enhanced chest of his. He whispered words of comfort while Tony cried about not wanting to be like his own father.

            Now he’d never be able to raise his kid. Now he was _worse_ than his own father, because he wasn’t even _there_ for the kid.


	3. I Will Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns the truth. It's a little overwhelming at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to just post it all as one last chapter instead of two, since there wasn't really a good 'halfway' place to separate it... Thanks to everyone who's given this story a chance! It means a lot to me. <3

 

            “Tony,” Steve said cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The genius didn’t look over at him, instead staying focused on the bottle in his hand.

            At least he didn’t have to deal with prohibition.

            His team seemed scared that he might do something stupid. He wasn’t planning on that… He was just planning on getting drunk until he couldn’t remember why he was getting drunk in the first place. He’d only blacked out… he couldn’t remember how many times. Someone from his team was always there when he woke up, offering him food or water or a waste basket to puke in.

            “Go away,” Tony groaned when the soldier tried to get him to stand up.

            “I’m sorry we brought you back here… we didn’t know,” Steve said quietly, dragging him over to the couch. Tony didn’t argue as the super-soldier set him down, pulling him into a hug. “I don’t know how to recreate the time machine, but if you wanted to… I’d help. I can see how much it’s hurting you, and while it would hurt to see you leave, it hurts more to see you in pain.”

            “I was supposed to be there,” Tony whispered, leaning into his friend’s embrace. “I met… I met my grandfather. I’m the reason Howard has ‘Anthony’ as a middle name, which will eventually go on to be my name… I was _supposed_ to… to meet her, and the baby… was always supposed to be born.”

            “Have you… tried to find out what happened to them?” Steve asked. Maybe he should ask if he knew them… after all, Steve must’ve grown up in around the same area, and the kid would’ve been close to the same age, maybe a little younger…

            “Frank became an officer, just like I told him to,” Tony mumbled. Finding out what happened with Officer Frank O’Malley had been easy. After prohibition, Frank really had managed to follow his dream, rising through the ranks quickly. Tony was glad for him, he deserved it. “I didn’t think he’d ever go for his dream…”

            He’d told Steve a lot about Frank in the past few days. It had taken about a week of moping and feeling depressed and drinking himself to death before he finally started opening up to his team.

            “You said his last name was O’Malley, right?” Steve asked. He looked thoughtful. “Officer O’Malley… I think I knew him. Yeah—he used to help out at the homeless shelter! When I was younger, I used to help Ma make some food for the homeless, and O’Malley used to come pick it up for us ‘cause I wasn’t strong enough to bring it to the shelter.”

            Silent tears started running down Tony’s cheeks, though Steve didn’t say anything. Tony was thankful. He hated feeling weak and crying in front of his teammates—or anyone, really. It was easier to open up to his family, though, and… while he’d deny crying all over Steve, he was glad that his friend didn’t care about getting wet due to the tears.

            “I couldn’t find what happened to them,” Tony whispered, looking up at his friend. “I tried to find them, but… she always ever went by her maiden name. She… she was married, but she’d recently lost her husband… World War I hadn’t ended yet. He was a soldier. But she never told me what her married last name was! I can’t find the damn marriage certificate, so I have _no idea_ the name I should be looking for.”

            “I’m sorry.” Steve was _incredible_ at shoulder massages, something that Natasha had been trying to teach _all_ of them. So Tony couldn’t really complain when those strong hands of his started working the pain out of his shoulders and back.

            “I really missed you guys,” Tony mumbled, trying to stop the tears. He was stronger than that. “Thought I’d never see any of you again… thought I’d have to find little kid-you and keep his ass outta trouble, ‘cause no doubt you’d be getting into some.”

            “We missed you too… Bruce worked so hard on that machine, and we all helped out when we could, but… We never meant for one month here to be six months in the past…” Steve sighed, taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you just let _me_ get sent back? I know the Hydra agents were after me, but you… you protected me.”

            “Someone’s gotta watch your back,” Tony said quietly. “I know Buck’s been trying to do that, but… I just hate seeing bad things happen to you, okay? I don’t like it, I’m not going to sit by and watch it happen.”

            Steve had such a soft, knowing smile on his face. “I always try to keep _you_ from getting into trouble, you reckless jerk.”

            Tony smirked. “What can I say, we’ve become more of a team in the past three years. When the team first started up, I can’t say I would’ve taken a hit for you like that, ‘cause we barely knew one another let alone got along with one another, but… I don’t like seeing you get hurt, Cap.”

            “And you think I _like_ seeing you taking hits for me? Not in the slightest, Tony. I try to protect my team as much as possible, and you’re an _extremely_ important part of this team,” Steve said, hugging him tighter. “I hope… you didn’t think that you weren’t, while we were trying to get you back… God, six months? I know I’ve said I’m sorry—we all have—but there’s no way to apologize for something like that.”

            “You don’t need to apologize,” Tony whispered, feeling guilty about all of the times he thought his team must’ve forgotten about him. He should’ve known that messing with time was more difficult than he’d been expecting. He never should’ve doubted them. “And I… I was supposed to go back there. It was supposed to happen. And I… I’m going to track down that baby, Steve.”

            “If I can do anything to help,” Steve offered, helping the brunet to his feet. The genius was filled with determination—he could find his missing child! Chances were the child wasn’t alive anymore, but… but _Aunt Peggy_ was, and if she was, then the child could be, too!

 

            Tony looked up from his research when he smelled… coffee? Turning around, he wasn’t surprised to see his science bro standing there in the doorway, looking unsure if he should walk into the room or not. Tony offered him a friendly smile, watching as Bruce relaxed a little and wandered into the room.

            “You’re always welcome in here, Bruce,” Tony said, thanking him when Bruce handed him the mug. “I even gave you those security codes for when no one else is allowed in.”

            “I know,” Bruce said quietly, avoiding eye contact. He shifted his glasses nervously. “I just wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, after I… I really didn’t know, Tony—”

            “I know you didn’t,” Tony said, patting Bruce’s shoulder. He never wanted to make his teammates feel bad for getting him back. That was never his intention. He was just… a bit heartbroken, and disgusted with himself for even thinking that it would be a good idea to sleep with someone in the past. At least he didn’t completely mess up the timeline by creating an extra person ninety-seven years ago.

            Bruce looked like he wanted to help out, glancing slightly over at the research before looking away. Tony gently took ahold of his hand, wishing that there was some way to reassure him.

            “I’m not mad,” Tony said, leading him over to the other side of the room. Setting down the coffee mug, Tony pulled up everything that he could find, which honestly wasn’t much. “I’m just having some trouble finding her and the baby. There were no O’Connor’s in August, when the baby was due, or even July, 1918, registered in the hospital as having a baby. So I’m a little stuck.”

            “I can help.” Bruce sounded so confident. “It’s the least I can do.”

            “No, the least you can do is stay here with me. I… I really missed you, Bruce, a _lot_ ,” Tony said, tightening his grip on Bruce’s hand. He’d been so lonely and drunk that night… Sure, he was bisexual, so he was interested in women, but he never really thought he’d want to have a relationship with that pretty blonde from the bar. There was only one person that he was really interested in. The issue was… he couldn’t _say_ anything to Bruce about it.

            “I missed you too,” Bruce whispered, biting his lip. “That’s why I wanted to bring you home… If I knew that you didn’t _want_ to come home—”

            “I did want to… every day, I thought about what would happen if I went home that day,” Tony said. Bruce had a look of disbelief on his face. “For the first month, I _really_ wanted to go home. Then O’Connor told me she was pregnant… We weren’t a couple. We were… like roommates. She was nice and funny and smart, but… we didn’t have a future. While I would’ve loved to be able to bring her to the future with me… I wanted to come home, Bruce. You guys are my family, and being apart from you all… It wasn’t easy. You did the right thing, and I’m _so thankful_ to be home. I hope you know that.”

            Bruce nodded mutely, but still didn’t look convinced. Well, he’d have time later to convince him. After all, it didn’t look like he was ever going to be able to get back to the past. He’d just have to live with the regret of fathering a child and then never raising it. But maybe… maybe there was something he could do. He could find relatives—grandchildren, maybe, and help them out as best he could. Anonymously, of course. He didn’t deserve to know them, or receive any sort of familial love from them.

            “What can I do?” Bruce asked, leafing through some of Tony’s research. He could see the gears spinning in Bruce’s mind, wanting to solve this puzzle just as much as he did. Tony smiled, glad that Bruce didn’t let go of his hand.

 

            “I’m just not sure how to find her… as far as I can find, even with Bruce’s help, she just… didn’t exist,” Tony said, sighing as he stared down at the bottle of whiskey he was drinking. He’d gotten so used to drinking it, and while none of it would ever taste as good as the stuff Frank used to give him… having scotch or vodka just didn’t sound right. Not right now.

            “She _had_ to have existed,” Clint said, frowning. “You sure she never mentioned her real last name?”

            Tony shook his head. Sarah had made sure never to speak her dead husband’s name, due to how guilty she felt about sleeping with someone else while still wearing her wedding ring. He hoped that she’d move on—maybe she had! Maybe she used her husband’s name when she was in the hospital, and then got remarried later with some _other_ last name, and he’d never find her.

            “You said it was 1918,” Barnes said. “Where’d she live? We may have known who lived ‘round there… I know it’s a longshot, but if she still lived there a few years after… Stevie and I _did_ grow up in Brooklyn.”

            They did… and O’Malley’s bar was in Brooklyn. O’Connor lived in Brooklyn. But it was a big place, there was no way that they could’ve known O’Connor, especially if he couldn’t even say what her married last name was.

            “She probably moved… had the money too. I made sure to keep a suitcase full of it for her, with everything I earned… I worked hard. I… I knew that I might get brought back here, and I wanted to make sure… She had ‘bout a half a year’s salary in there, workin’ part-time at a mechanic’s place and part-time with my… my grandfather, inventing stuff…”

            “Wait… the mechanic’s place? Lou and Marty?” Bucky asked, handing Tony another whiskey.

            “Yeah… They ever get married like they wanted to?” Tony asked, taking a long drink from the bottle. Lou and Marty were both mechanics, though Martha preferred to do the bookwork more often “’cause that man can’t add ta save his life!” They were a great couple, and he really enjoyed working with them.

            “Yeah… Before I became a soldier, I used to help out over there. Marty was even teachin’ her kids how to work on cars,” Bucky chuckled, smiling. His entire expression changed in realization, though, a few moments later. “Wait. You didn’t go by Tony Stark in the past, did you?” He shook his head. “Of course not… so no doubt you were that _Anthony Banner_ that they used to compare everyone to.”

            Tony felt a blush start to cross his face. Bruce just looked amused.

            “You were the standard they were holding everyone to,” Steve laughed, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “Buck was always so mad ‘cause no one could live up to their expectations, not when ‘Anthony’ set the bar so high! We thought he was some sort of fairytale legend that they’d created.”

            “Should’ve connected that one right away,” Bucky sighed.

            “You went by Anthony _Banner_ in the past?” Natasha asked, and Tony glanced away, wishing they wouldn’t ask about that. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

            “Not really,” Tony said, wishing that someone would change the subject already. He glanced over when Bruce took ahold of his hand and smiled. At least Bruce wasn’t mad.

            “Aww,” Clint teased, though by now Tony was beginning to wonder whether or not the archer would remember anything from tonight, based on the way he was drinking.

            “What was her name?” Bucky asked. “Maybe we knew her. Lots of kids knew each other’s parents… I knew most of the neighborhood kids and the families they came from. And Steve can say if I’m wrong—he knew them all too.”

            Tony looked back and forth between them. They looked so serious, like… like they really wanted to help.

            “Her name…” Tony sighed, taking another drink. “O’Connor. She… her name was Sarah O’Connor. She was a nurse… She had a really pretty face. Big, blue eyes…” Tony rested his head on his hands, trying not to think too much about the kid he left behind.

            There was this silence that seemed to hang in the air, an uncomfortable silence that just got under his skin. Tony glanced up at Steve and Bucky, who were both sharing an identical surprised look. Steve looked speechless.

            “Hey guys, do you think you could…?” Bucky gestured towards the door. “I think Steve needs to talk with Tony right now. Alone.”

            “Bucky,” Steve whispered, reaching out for his hand. Tony couldn’t deny that he was a bit envious of how close those two were. He was happy for them, don’t get him wrong, but he really wanted to be able to have what they did. Only… he glanced over at Bruce. Maybe talking with him would be a good idea.

            Natasha must’ve been a mind-reader, because she put Clint’s arm around her shoulders and pulled him off of the bar. “Bruce,” she said quietly, and the doctor cast one last glance over at Tony before he nodded and followed after her.

            Bucky got up to follow, too, but Steve grabbed his wrist and held him back.

            “Stevie, this is something that you two need to talk about,” Bucky whispered, gently unhooking Steve’s hand from his wrist. “I’ll be in the other room, don’t worry.” Tony almost wished that Bucky would just kiss him so that he _knew_ those two were a couple. He still wasn’t completely sure about it. “I promise, Stevie. I’m here. But this is something you need to do.”

            Steve nodded, glancing over at Tony with tears in his eyes. Oh shit, what had he done? Was it something he said? Steve watched Bucky leave the room, taking a few deep breaths before he looked over at Tony.

            “If it was something I said,” he said quickly “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

            Steve took ahold of one of his hands. He bit his lip, looking worried.

            “You said… the woman’s name was Sarah O’Connor. She was a nurse… she lived in Brooklyn. The… the baby, uh, was supposed to be born in August, right? But you couldn’t find out when he was really born ‘cause you didn’t know her… her last name, just her maiden name,” Steve said quietly, squeezing Tony’s hand. He nodded, unsure of what it was that Steve was talking about.

            “So you did know her? Please tell me that she was okay, and the baby was fine… please tell me nothing bad happened to them,” Tony whispered, staring into Steve’s eyes. He needed to know that the super-soldier was telling him the truth.

            “I knew her, yeah,” Steve whispered, avoiding his eyes. He took another deep breath. “She was a great woman.”

            “And… and the baby?” He needed to know. “I was supposed to _be there_ , Steve. I… I was _going_ to. I thought you guys had given up, and I was just going to be staying there…” Tony wiped away his tears with his free hand. “But then I was back here. Please tell me that me not being there didn’t screw the poor kid up.”

            “Her name… Her name was Sarah Katherine O’Connor… Rogers,” he said slowly. His poor lips were going to be bleeding with all the nervous biting. “Her son was born July 4th, 1918.”

            There was no possible way. Tony stared at the man in front of him, brain trying to piece together what he was telling him so that it might make _some_ sort of sense, but there was _no way_ that anything he was saying was true right now.

            “S-she named her son Steven…” he added, in case Tony hadn’t figured it out.

            “T-that’s impossible,” Tony whispered, hands trembling. There was no way that his teammate, Captain freaking America, was actually saying that the woman he slept with back in 1917 was Steve’s _mother_.

            That’s when Tony realized where he’d seen that look before—those familiar, sharp blue eyes. They were the exact same shade as… He looked up at Steve again. Shit. Steve… looked so much like O’Connor. Why hadn’t he noticed it earlier? Why hadn’t he asked her what her last name was?

            “Tony,” Steve said softly, and before he knew what he was doing, he was on the other side of the bar, hugging the other man as tight as he could.

            “I was supposed to _be there_ ,” Tony sobbed. Everything was starting to fall into place. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he should’ve _known_ that O’Connor was really Sarah Rogers—Steve had lost his father before he was born. His father had been a soldier. His mother was a nurse. Her name was _Sarah_. Steve was born in 1918. Everything _made sense_ , and he hadn’t spotted it earlier.

            “It’s okay,” Steve whispered, keeping him held close. “I… I know you would’ve been there if we hadn’t brought you back. But… I’ve always been told… my father was a soldier, Joseph Rogers of the 107th. I-I believe you, when you say that… Sarah O’Connor.” The super-soldier hugged him a little tighter. He was shaking some, and Tony could hear that he was trying to hold back tears, too. “We brought you back here. We didn’t let you stay in the past…”

            “I never wanted to abandon you,” Tony said, pulling away enough to be able to look up into Steve’s eyes. “I-I was going to be there. I didn’t want to be like my father.”

            “You’re not like your father,” Steve said, using his _I am the Captain_ voice. “No one can blame you for not being there… when you weren’t given the chance to be.”

            “I have a son,” Tony whispered. It had taken some time for him to realize that he was going to be a father, back in 1917. But now… he had a _son_. He was a _father_. Steve Rogers… Steve was his _son?_

            “Is there… is there some sort of way that we could… do some DNA test or something?” Steve asked quietly. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, because I do, but… I would never have thought that… it shouldn’t be _possible_ , and yet…” Steve hugged him tightly again. “I never had a father growin’ up, thought he was dead from the war, but… apparently when we brought you back, we took you away from… from my _Ma_ … This is insane.”

            “I’m so sorry,” Tony said. He could never say it enough. Steve Rogers was his _son_ , who had to grow up without a father because _he wasn’t there_ , because he was from another time.

            Maybe he really _was_ supposed to go back to the past. If he hadn’t… if he hadn’t slept with O’Connor, did that mean that his friend would never have existed? B-because _he_ was the father of one of his closest friends? Shit, that was crazy.

            “It’s not your fault,” Steve said, smiling through his tears.

            “I-I’ll see if Bruce can do a DNA test, see if we can get some fast results…" Tony asked, feeling terrified. What if the serum changed his DNA too much to tell? Would Steve even _want_ to know if he was really his father? Would Steve be mad, ‘cause it wasn’t what he was hoping for? Would he be… _disappointed?_ That was worse, far worse, than Steve being mad. Seeing the disappointment on his Captain’s face when he screwed up too badly always hurt some.

            “Great,” Steve said, smiling. “So, uh… if I, um, if I _am_ your son… How do you, um, how do you think I turned out?”

            “I couldn’t be prouder,” Tony said. And he really did mean it—Steve had always been important to him. He’d been raised with stories of the great Captain America, and the man had always been an inspiration to him, growing up. He wanted to be a good man, like Steve Rogers was.

            Tony wasn’t sure how long the two spent hugging one another, but after a little crying and hugging, the two wandered over to see where their team had gone. Steve had run over to Bucky right away, and Tony had wandered over to where Bruce was.

            “Tasha dragged Clint off to bed,” Bruce said, looking over to the two super-soldiers. “Bucky told me… that Sarah O’Connor is actually Sarah O’Connor _Rogers_ … Is that true?”

            “I think so,” Tony whispered. “Think you could do a DNA test for us? I don’t want to send Steve’s DNA to anyone else. I trust you not to sell his blood to supervillains.”

            Bruce chuckled. “I can do that. It’s a crazy thought, but…”

            “I… I think it’ll be strange for a while, but… if I _am_ his father, which I really think that I am… Think he’d be mad if I tried to act like a father to him? I mean, I’ve missed so much of his life… and now—I’m just a couple years older than he is. And he’s an _adult_ —I doubt he’d want me to try to act like a father to him… But I’ll always be his friend.”

            Bucky was whispering something to Steve, holding him tightly, while the blond had his face pressed against Barnes’ chest. He couldn’t tell if Steve was sad, or angry, or _what_. But honestly, if he found out that someone like himself was his father, Tony would be pretty pissed and disappointed, too.

            “We’ll figure all this out,” Bruce said softly, gripping Tony’s hand tightly, “as a _team_. Because that’s what we’ll always be, a team. A family.”

 

            “I guess you really _are_ my father,” Steve said, staring at the paternity test. Tony had already looked through it and found that apparently he was the father of one of his closest friends—a friend that was only seven years younger than him right now. Thanks, time travel.

            “I’m sorry,” Tony said quietly, waiting for his friend to have that look of disappointment on his face.

            “I already told you, it wasn’t your fault that you weren’t there, Tony. We pulled you out of that timeline, you didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Steve said, patting his shoulder. He didn’t look angry.

            “No, I’m sorry that… that it’s me, and not the guy you’ve always thought it was,” Tony said, flinching away. He was preparing himself for being alone again. Where had he left that whiskey? “I know it must be disappointing—”

            “What are you talking about?” Steve looked horrified. “Tony, I’m not disappointed. Why would you think that? There’s nothing disappointing about you.” He tugged him closer, stopping when he probably noticing the way that Tony flinched backward. “I’m not going to hurt you, Tony. Is that what you think? Why would you think I’m disappointed?”

            “Because I’ve always been such a fuck-up,” Tony growled, mad that Steve wouldn’t just _admit it_. Out of everyone, the Captain knew the _most_ how much he always messed up! “I couldn’t even stay to raise my own _kid_ —”

            “You didn’t get a choice in that! _We_ wanted you back here, so _we_ pulled you out of the timeline that you were in! _We_ didn’t think about what might’ve gone on during the time that you were gone, so _we_ didn’t give you the option,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “So if you’re going to blame anyone, blame _us_ , because _we_ made that decision. Never blame yourself for something that you had no control over.”

            Tony hated crying in front of anyone. Crying in front of Steve was no exception. “I was supposed to be different. I didn’t want to be like my own father, Steve! But I did _worse_ than he did, because I wasn’t even _there!_ ”

            “And I don’t blame you for that,” Steve insisted. He sounded so serious that it was impossible for Tony to hold the tears back. This was his _son_ , the only child he guessed that he’d ever have, his own flesh and blood. His son, who wasn’t mad at him, or disappointed with him, who didn’t want to leave Tony all alone.

            What had he done to deserve a son as perfect as Steve?

            “I don’t blame you,” Steve repeated, quieter this time. “And… I know this is going to make things… different, between us. I know that. But I want you to know that I care about you, and I want to see you happy… and I know this might be strange, but… We can do this. Right?”

            “You…still want to be around me? You’re not mad?” Tony asked, shocked.

            “You’re my friend… of course I’d still want to be around you,” Steve said, smiling. “That’s not going to change. And I’d never be mad at you because of this. If it wasn’t for you… I wouldn’t be _alive_ right now. I just can’t understand why you think so poorly of yourself. I care about you—so does the team. We’re family. We’ve, apparently, always _been_ family. Now we just know it.”

            Tony nodded, feeling numb. He still couldn’t believe that Steve wasn’t mad. The blond smiled. Those blue eyes looked so much like Sarah’s eyes, though there was a warmth and love that Tony hadn’t really seen before. Was this the unconditional love that children had for parents? Could Steve see how much he cared for him, just by looking into his eyes?

            “You’re making me all emotional,” Tony mumbled, crossing his arms.

            Steve grinned. “So you wouldn’t mind if… I mean, we’ve been getting closer since we saved the world three years ago, but… would you mind if I spent more time down in the lab with you, maybe? I mean, obviously I can’t just automatically have that kind of relationship with you, but we could definitely work on it.”

            “I’d like that,” Tony said. He had a son, and while he’d missed out on twenty-six years of his life—twenty-nine if you count the last three years they’d known one another—he was going to make sure the rest of it was perfect. He’d do anything for his kid— _anything_.

            One day, Steve would know that. despite not being a _kid_ , especially with the small age difference between them, Tony was going to make sure that the super-soldier understood that he’d always love him unconditionally (even when they did argue).

            It had been one day since Tony Stark had realized who his son was, and he was going to spend every day after that with his family, making sure they all knew how much he cared for them. One day he’d understand that they cared for him, too.

 

            Sarah brushed the hair out of her little boy’s face. His fever had just broken, and her anxiety was starting to fade. He was six years old, and for the past six years he’d grown up with a lie. Sometimes she thought that God was punishing her for lying to her son about who his father really was, and sometimes she wanted to blame Anthony for little Steven’s sicknesses. But she couldn’t keep hating the man when she wasn’t completely sure what happened to him.

            Anthony had been doing dangerous and stupid experiments with Mr. Stark, and he… the machine _exploded_. She wasn’t sure if he was killed in the blast—Mr. Stark seemed sure of it, and he felt horrible about what had happened. He’d apologized again and again, completely distraught about losing Anthony—he’d said the man felt like _family_ to him.

            Sarah didn’t know what to believe. She mourned the loss of her child’s father, but she never told the world who the father was, as she was still married to Joseph. O’Malley hadn’t been happy to learn that Joseph had been named the father, but he never spoke a word of her secret.

            Earlier that night, she’d opened the suitcase that Anthony had left for her. It was filled with all the earnings he’d made while they’d been ‘roommates,’ as he used to say. There was a letter on top, a long, long one, for her. He wanted her to know that he really was from the future, that those stories he’d told her were real, and she’d know for sure because one day she might meet some neighborhood kids named _Steven Grant Rogers_ and _James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes_ , and one day they’d be Captain America and the Winter Soldier, heroes in the future with huge destinies in front of them.

            Sarah didn’t read the letter until her child, Steven Grant Rogers, was five years old. It was the same day his best friend, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes had brought him home, telling her about how he’d just collapsed and how scared he was for little Stevie.

            “You’ve got a bit future ahead of you, baby,” Sarah whispered, kissing her child’s cheek. “I need you to be brave, okay? Your daddy… I don’t think he knew that one day you two would meet again, and I hope… I hope he did go back to where he came from, because that means you were there, too, bringing him home.”

            It was hard to think about. One day, her son would crash a plane and end up in the future. It seemed like a crazy idea. But all of the names lined up… Anthony would never have known that Steven’s middle name would be _Grant_ , after Joseph’s father.

            She’d never said her last name was Rogers. Would things have been different if she’d told him? She’d never know. The suitcase full of money proved extremely helpful when Steven needed medicine, and for that, she was thankful. Her son was _everything_ to her, and she hoped that one day, when he met Anthony, his father would love him just as much as she did.

            “One day, my little hero, you’ll have to take care of that man,” Sarah whispered to her sleeping child. “He’ll need you, and you’ll need him, and if you did take him back, all those years ago… I need you to always do that. I need you to keep him close and have the bond you missed out on now. One day, you’ll know the truth, my dear little boy, and one day…” A tear rolled down her cheek. She wouldn’t always be there for him.

            “One day I hope you’ll forgive me for keeping this from you.”


End file.
